Sarah bought Chris a guitar for his birthday
It kind of pissed me off because he's 17 and he doesn't even have a computer yet
And his dad works for eBay
I said that and she was like, "Well, whose birthday is it: yours or his?"
I said, "Whose wallet is it? Yours or mine?" but she gave me that look so I resigned
Never argue with a smiling teen—it's like seeing an eclipse or something
You just stare and take pictures!
Thank your lucky stars that you were there to bear witness
At first it was nice, to see him practicing... actually using the gift
He'd bring it to the table, choke down the bare minimum, then sit and play a bit
But I got kind of tired of hearing him play those same three funk and blues riffs
And when he got himself an amp there was nowhere in the house to get away from it
When I came back upstairs one night, after forcing him to turn it off and go to bed
Sarah leaned up on one elbow and asked why I didn't get the keyboard down instead
I laughed too quick and told her I wasn't about to encourage this assault on our senses
But the truth is I couldn't play a song if my pension depended on it
In the attic, in the corner, under sheets
I found my keyboard
Put my fingers on the right keys but couldn't find a single chord
And if my hands can forget all the songs that they wrote
And the parts that they played in the albums they made
Who's to say that they won't just forget everything?
One day: can't cook, can't code, can't feel my job
My skills demand my hands... all wrong
Paycheck: all gone
It was quarter to eleven, we were already in bed on a Monday night
I must've heard him play Kashmir fifty times but never once got it right
Maybe I came into his room 'cause I was looking for a fight
Or 'cause I couldn't bear to sit by while he wasted away the education
Paid for with my own life
He stopped calling me "Dad," started calling me "Gavin" when I raised my voice
I asked him to "please put the guitar down for one damn minute!"
I don't know if the noodling was a conscious thing or if his fingers just did it
But he wouldn't get the message 'til I yanked it away from him, and put my foot in it
Finally for once, ever, Chris looked scared
He bolted out the door and downstairs
Sarah came up to see what all the fuss was about
When she saw the guitar she started freaking out
Telling me how I'm taking my own life out on my kids
She was calm when she said
"You won't be happy until nobody is"
In the attic, in the corner, under sheets
I found my keyboard
Put my fingers on the right keys but couldn't find a single chord
And if my hands can forget all the songs that they wrote
And the parts that they played in the albums they made
Who's to say that they won't just forget everything?
One day: can't cook, can't code, can't feel my job
My skills demand my hands... all wrong
Paycheck: all gone